


Don't Stay Dead

by Neaislove



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Necromancer Stiles, non-lasting death of a pet, ressurection, supernatural is known, werewolves are known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-15
Updated: 2015-06-15
Packaged: 2018-04-04 14:34:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4141443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neaislove/pseuds/Neaislove
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because Stiles is a necromancer doesn't mean he's evil. And just because his cat looks like a little hell spawn, it doesn't mean she deserves to die. Again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Stay Dead

**Author's Note:**

> If you're worried about this type of thing just know that the cat is described as a little decayed. But she doesn't stay dead.

Thistle was an ugly little thing. The once proud Sphinx cat was now a gaunt, threshal like thing with milky eyes. Stiles absolutely loved her. He met Thistle the first time just before his Sophomore year of high school. She was wearing an alligator cat jacket and a black tag. Stiles remembers Scott cooing like an idiot trying to catch her. Thistle disappeared for a little while at the start of school. Stiles figured she'd gone home or got picked up by animal control. That was until he came home from track practice and saw a jagged patch of alligator skin on his porch.

Thistle had run away from home and had no intentions of going back. Stiles searched carefully around his porch until he'd found the cat. She was dead. Freshly mauled by a dog. The poor little thing had tried to crawl to safety under some bushes. Thistle was the first animal Stiles brought back. The one and only. Before Thistle it was all plants. He liked to leave the animal saving to Scott and Dr. Deaton.

Stiles doesn't know why he decided to bring Thistle back. All he knows is, he's not hurting anyone by keeping around his creepy little cat and he'd like people to stop trying to kill her. Thistle is an innocent in all this. True, she looks gruesome. She does have pretty gross permanent stitches on her side like some kind of Dr. Frankenstein creation. She is missing one ear. She does constantly run into things because her eyes are fogged over. But she's happy. She just wants a warm place to sleep and a steady supply of tender centers Meow Mix.

Stiles has rights okay. Technically, as much as he hates the idea, anything Stiles reanimates becomes his property. When living relatives come into play things get sketchy but with animals it's no question. If Stiles wasn't around Thistle would be dead and rotting. She belongs to Stiles. And some asshole out there just keeps killing his cat. And okay, he can totally bring Thistle back a million times. But every time she dies she decays a little more. If Stiles doesn't catch her immediately she's going to get to the point of no return. He loves Thistle too much to have her ambling around without all her skin.

And regardless of how gross Thistle might look she's still a pet. A precious beloved pet. Who the hell just goes out and kills pets? Psychopaths that's who. The second Stiles finds out who's killing his cat he's going to press charges. Reanimated or not Thistle has a right to live. Killing her is still animal cruelty. Also it's destruction of property because Stiles is a necromancer.

Currently Stiles is building a case to bring to his father. He needs to make absolutely certain that Thistle is being killed and not just supremely unlucky. His Dad isn't very fond of Thistle, but that's more a cat thing than a dead thing. Mom use to reanimate stuff all the time. "Don't you worry sugar. Daddy is going to find this vicious cat killer." Stiles keeps his eyes on the lawn while he bends down to scoop up Thistle. He can't really scratch her. The skin is too delicate at this point. But he can pet her and rub her with his fingertips.  
"Your killer is out there somewhere. The streets aren't safe for young ladies. I will--"

"Son, stop."

Stiles jerks and spins on his heel to see his dad. He's wearing his uniform and he's frowning. He's got 'concerned dad face' on. "You don't even--"

The Sheriff sighs and holds out his hand to stop him. "Whatever it is you're going to do, don't. Just don't."

Stiles furrows his brows and straightens up to his full height. Thistle is lounging in his arms, completely unconcerned. "For all you know I'm trying to be an upstanding member of society." His dad just stares at him, completely deadpan. Stiles can see the face of a man who's been unimpressed for years. Stiles purses his lips and steps aside so his dad can get to his cruiser. "I'm a good person!"

"That's what I tell myself at night." His dad doesn't even bother looking at his son while he responds. Just climbs into his car. Stiles isn't bothered by it. They have a funny way of showing each other affection.

Stiles shoves his face down and plants a wet kiss on Thistle's head, just next to her missing ear. "I'm going to avenge you sugar. Just you wait." He gives one last suspicious look over his street then turns back inside. The killer has to be someone in the neighborhood. Stiles keeps Thistle alive with his magic. Cats require so little energy to maintain it's almost indiscernible to him. If Thistle were a person she'd scarcely be able to leave his side. But even though Thistle has a large range she chooses to stick close.

Scott says she was probably mistreated. Stiles likes to think she just loves him dearly. He doesn't like to dwell. He's lived in the same house his whole life. Five houses have changed hands over the course of his time here. He's not too concerned with his immediate neighbors. Ms. Yuger adores Thistle. She lives to the right of him and constantly brings over catnip toys. On the other side of him there's the Greene's. They're a family of five. All boogey people and very much in tune with the creepy crawly. Including undead pets.

He wants to eliminate the people closest to him first. He'll feel safer knowing Thistle can lounge on the porch without the constant threat of someone strangling her. Stiles made his way to the kitchen and poured himself a glass of milk. While he sipped he dug around in the kitchen drawers for a pen. There was already a yellow legal pad on the table. "Come on Thistle. Any clues?" He slides into a chair and starts tapping his pen against the pad. "Anything at all?"

Despite what some people liked to think, necromancers didn't develop psychic links with their animated. Yeah he could sense when Thistle was alive and when the magic severed but he couldn't read her thoughts. It wasn't just because she was a cat. The reanimated were still themselves, just half dead. They lived, they breathed, they ate. But they couldn't heal. Barely slept. It's why Stiles had a firm 'No People' policy. Not that he just went around reanimating things. Or that he ever intended to.

Thistle was his one and only and he hoped to grow old with her. If only someone would just stop killing her. Stiles rubs his free hand across his lips. "The newest family is the prime suspect. I know nothing about them. They know nothing about me. They might not have even known I was a necromancer. Maybe they're trying to send me a message." He scribbles down his train of thought next to the house number. "I can't get hung up on them though. It could just as easily be the college guys at the end of the block. Like a truth or dare thing. Kill the necromancer's cat, score points."

He goes through every family on his street. Jotting down notes as they come to him. Keeping them cataloged by house number. He even puts down Ms. Yuger and the Greene's just to be thurough. So far the kills haven't had any pattern. No specific time or day of the week. It's always strangulation. Which is weird. Who strangle's a cat?

The first time it happened Stiles was so distraught he cried until his dad came up to the school with her body. It was a horrible feeling. Like a rubber band snapping inside his heart. He was never aware of how much he felt her until she was gone. The day after he endured no tiny amount of hazing from his classmates. Until Scott started pointing out how upset everyone got when they came into Deaton's.

Stiles tosses his pen down. "I think you should stay inside for a little while." He stares down at Thistle, who's lounging across a fallen dish towel. "I know you're a wild huntress of the night but you're going to have to lie low until I find your killer." He gets up from the table and passes by her, giving her a loving nudge with his toes. He takes a second to just look at her; his mangey zombie like little cat. She's an ugly little thing. But she loves him. Why does that bother people?

* * * *

"Does Coach seem even crazier than normal? Like a twelve instead of his usual ten or?" Stiles rocks his hand back and forth in a so so gesture. Coach has always been a bag of crazy. With no supernatural reason at all. But today he seemed to be in top form. Or bottom. Whatever. "It's just me then?"

Scott shrugs his shoulders. Typical. He spends all of econ making moon eyes at Alison and completely misses Coach's new level of crazy.

"You seriously didn't notice..." Stiles comes to a full stop in the hallway. It's happening again. Stiles fights the building panic but he can't stop the way his heart speeds up and his breathing is getting more labored. Scott is a little ways ahead of him now, too wrapped up in Alison's existence to notice. "S...Scott. Scott help." Stiles' hands are shaking, just so. Its happened before. He can bring her back. He can get home and revive her before she starts to decay anymore. It'll be alright.

Except this is different. Because he made sure Thistle was inside when he went to school. Someone isn't just killing his cat for fun. They're really sending him a message. They're breaking into his home to destroy what he loves. How long until they're not just satisfied with his cat? How long before they go after him or his Dad? He takes a shaky step forward. Then Scott is there, ducking his head to catch Stiles' eyes.

"Stiles? Is it Thistle? Do we need to leave?"

"She was inside. Inside Scott." Stiles is crying now. He's clutching onto Scott's arms desperately. They're in his house. It's a testament to their friendship that Scott doesn't wait any longer. He just herds Stiles through the crowd and gets him into the jeep. He takes every shortcut he can, getting them home in record time.

Before the car has even stopped rolling in the driveway Stiles is throwing himself out of the jeep and rushing inside. The door is locked. It takes him two tries to get his key into the lock with the way his fingers are trembling. Scott comes up behind him, baseball bat in hand. Stiles isn't too confident they can fight off whoever this is. If Scott starts choking Stiles isn't going to be able to help him and fight. The best he can hope for is that the killer did the deed and booked it.

Inside the house looks untouched. All except for Thistle. Her tiny body is stretched out like a skinned rabbit. She's been strangled again. Stiles whimpers as he drops to his knees next to her. As gently as he can he scoops her up and cradles her close. "I'm so sorry this happened to you. I'm so sorry." He presses a kiss to her head and concentrates. He focuses on his life force, imagines breathing it into her. He pours all of his love and warmth into her tiny body until she rouses with a rolling meow.

When she comes to Stiles really starts to sob. He loves her so much. He doesn't understand why someone would do this to her. To him. And every time he brings her back he wonders if he even should. Does she remember her death? Is she scared? He doesn't want her to be scared. He just wants to have his little cat in a happy house and live in peace.  
Necromancers are outcasts. He's lucky to have Scott. Some of the rumors out there about what necromancers can do, it's horrible. Nightmare fuel really. Practically no one saw the animated as people. As living creatures who deserved respect. No one could understand life like a necromancer. It was a spark, a tangible energy to them. Life was precious. Breathing it into someone was an intimate thing. Killing a necromancer's animated was like bruising their soul. You're trying to stamp out their spark.

While Stiles holds onto Thistle and cries Scott gets on the phone. It picks up almost immediately. The Sheriff knows Scott wouldn't call during school hours unless it was important. "Mr. Stilinski, I think you need to come home. Stiles is...he's not hurt. But he's not okay. Someone killed Thistle again." After that Scott makes a few confused noises. He'd thought the Sheriff already knew about the other deaths. When Scott finally hangs up, he looks thoroughly chastised. "You didn't tell your dad?"

Stiles shakes his head. He's still scrunched over Thistle. She's purring and feels completely at ease in his arms.

"Stiles why didn't you say anything?"

Stiles shrugs and buries his face further into Thistle's side. Scott joins him on the ground, crossing his legs and resting the bat across his lap. The crying has tapered off by now but Stiles is still worried. His whole body is riddled with tension.

"Stiles! Stiles where are--" The Sheriff stops short in the living room. Scott looks up at him with a frown. He shrugs his shoulders like 'what can you do'. "Stiles, is she okay?" He crouches down, his hand firm on Stiles' shoulder.

"She's okay. Alive and purring." He sniffs and looks over to reassure his dad. It does the exact opposite. His eyes are red rimmed and glassy. His whole face is a blotchy mess. It's just like the first time all over again. Stiles had made sure his dad thought the first death was an accident. He said she must have fallen wrong. But Stiles knew. And he kept every time after a secret. Now the cat was out of the bag.

"Stiles, why didn't you say anything?" He slides his palm from Stiles' shoulder to the middle of his back and gives him a rub. "You're suppose to talk to me."

Stiles just shrugs. He didn't think his dad would care. A lot of people don't. Not when he can just bring her back over and over again. Beside him his Dad gets onto his knees and pulls Stiles into a hug.

"This is a big deal Stiles. It's not a game. It's not petty vandalism. Someone is assaulting you. Probably stalking you too." He gives Stiles a squeeze. "I'm going to search around the house. Then we're going to the station to file a report." He rubs his hand over Stiles' arm one last time and stands. He looks over to Scott, who's still clutching the baseball bat. "Keep an ear out. I'll be right back."

Stiles just seems to unfurl. He'd been unsure about bringing things to his dad. Wary about how much Thistle mattered to him. He just felt so relieved to know that his dad got it. This was assault through proxy. Harassment definitely. He felt better knowing there was someone on his side.

Farther back in the house the Sheriff had his gun at the ready. Whoever killed Thistle could still be lurking around. If they were patient enough to do it repeatedly they were hoping for a certain kind of reaction. Or a perfect moment. He thoroughly checks the upstairs first. Clearing one room at a time. Downstairs he takes the kitchen first. It's a small room, their pantry door is open. That's almost enough to keep him from lingering. Then he spots the back door.

They have a cat door. It's small, latches shut from the outside. He lowers his gun and steps close to the door. Cautiously he nudges the cat door with his foot. The flap pushes out. "Ah hell." This has to be the point of entry. So far there haven't been any other signs of break in. And he doesn't keep a spare key anywhere around the perimeter of the house. Just to be thorough though he continues his search.

Like he expected, the house is empty of intruders. Which means whoever, or whatever, got inside can fit through a cat door. He crosses back to the living room. Stiles and Scott are sitting across from each other, lazily rolling a cat toy back and forth. Thistle doesn't move towards it, but her one ear is perked in interest. "Was everything locked up when you left?"

"Yeah. I wanted her to be safe."

"Everything?"

Stiles sighs and catches the cat toy in his hand. "Everything Dad. Even the cat door okay. I double checked." Stiles may be upset and frustrated but it's not enough for him to miss the look on his dad's face. The sudden tightening of his jaw and the way his brow furrows just so. "What?"

"Stiles..."

"What?" Stiles angrily rises up and rounds on his father. "The cat door? They got in through the freaking cat door?" He rakes a hand through his hair, scratching at his scalp. "So they're not human. Can't be. Who could fit--"

The Sheiriff raises his hands. "Stiles, enough. I want to go to the station. We'll figure it out there okay. Right now I want you out of the house." Stiles is about to protest again when Scott scoops up Thistle.

"It's alright man. I'll bring her to Deaton. He'll keep her safe." He dips his head down and starts brushing his forehead against hers. "It'll be like a little vacation. Isn't that right Thistle?"

"I...fine." Stiles stalks past them both. "Let's get this over with." He doesn't bother trying to get into the jeep. This is official police business. And once he's given his statement he's probably going to be sequestered to a spare office like a child. His father graciously allows him to watch as Scott bundles Thistle into the jeep and drives off towards Deaton's. His office is close enough that the distance won't be a strain on his magic.

The car ride is tense. Stiles can feel the tension in the air, the subtle disapointment. He's a little ashamed of himself. Of course his dad wanted him to be okay. Why hadn't he just mentioned it? There's several points during the drive where Stiles opens his mouth, poised to say something to defend himself. Nothing comes out. He's got nothing. At least not anything that won't make his dad feel like shit. So he stays quiet and picks and fidgets until they get to the station.

Once inside Stiles waves at the Deputy at the desk and heads back to find an empty office. Someone else will have to take his statement. Turns out to be Deputy Herse. He's getting up there in age, mostly does paperwork these days. Stiles tells him about the deaths. About how he locked the whole house up and still found his cat dead. He mentioned the cat door. And for the first time Stiles spoke to someone outside of his parents and Scott about what it felt like to give life and feel it slip away.

Herse was steady through it all. Recording his statement and rarely asking for clarification. Not at all once he started talking about his necromancing. By the end of it Stiles felt raw and more on edge than he had in the car. "Mr. Stilinski we're going to do what we can. For right now I would consider sleeping at a friends house. Keep Thistle close." Stiles nods. He'd figured as much. He starts drumming his fingers across the desk top. The rhythmic noise gives him something to focus on.

Whatever it is, it's small. Or has to be able to shift into something small. His dad hadn't mentioned any damage around the cat door. Just that it had been the point of access. It's not boggart season yet. They prefer the cold. One could have been drawn to Thistle's death scent but why not eat her after killing her? Not the most likely candidate but a perfect size.

The Greene's could easily shift into something that would fit but they loved Thistle. None of the college students were shifters. One of them had a lot of occult texts. Could be a witch. And if witches are a possibility then the point of entry may be irrelevant. Strangulation spells were simple enough to learn. You just had to have the will to end life.

A knuckle rapped on the door. "Stiles?" It's Deputy Parrish. He's in casual clothes today. "Your dad wants me to take you by the house. We'll grab some of your stuff then I'll take you to Ms. McCall's." It's probably the best place for him. Once Scott started working at the vet's office Deaton warded his house all to hell. Just in case someone with a grievance against his side business tried to take it out on the McCall's. Having Parrish as an escort might be overkill though.

But if it made his dad feel better then he'd let it slide. Parrish was pretty good company. When he wasn't erupting into flame. "Any word on how long I'll be a refugee?"  
"Don't joke about that." Jordan ignores his scoff and leads him out with a hand on his back. "We're going to ask around. Try to get some surveillance on the house."

"Dad's worried it might be someone against necromancers?"

"We haven't talked about it. He just asked me to come get you." He has a nice sensible car, a little gold Honda Civic that's well cared for. It doesn't help Jordan's perpetual baby face. Riding with him isn't too difficult though. The air's not tense. It's like riding with an annoyed older brother.

As they pull down his street Stiles casts a critical eye over his neighbors. There's a few people out. One of the college girls is tanning on her lawn. Ms. Yuger is gardening. Diagonal to his house is one of the new families. It's a werewolf pack. They keep to themselves and Stiles doesn't know a lot about them. There's a little girl standing in the driveway holding a scuffed up dog toy. She stares them down as they get out of the car.

"Check out the child of the corn."

Parrish sighs. "Stiles..." He shakes his head and turns to the front door. But Stiles takes a few steps farther down the driveway. She's just staring at him. He raises a hand a gives her a tiny wave.

"Okay little posessed child, look away." Stiles laughs nervously to himself and waves a little more enthusiastically.

"Is she gone?"

His whole body goes cold. Is it possible? "What?"

The little girl edges to the end of her drive and paces the ledge of the street. "Is she gone? Should be gone. Leave you alone." The determined crease in her forehead should look funny. But Stiles can't help but feel frightened. A kid. A fucking kid is sneaking into his house and murdering his pet.

Parrish must sense his fear because he's standing in front of Stiles in an instant. His eyes track the little girl, not underestimating her for a second. The things he's seen. Jordan makes sure he keeps himself between Stiles and the girl while he calls the station. "Sheriff, I think we have a suspect. Female child, between seven and nine. Caucasian, shifter." Jordan ends the call and takes a step forward. "Are your parents home?"

The little girl shakes her head. "Dead." She doesn't seem the least bit upset about this. Which unnerves Stiles a bit more. "Alpha is home."

Jordan turns and pushes Stiles back gently. "Go inside Stiles. Lock the door."

Stiles shakes his head and smacks Jordan's hand away. "You're not on the clock. You can't just walk into a wolf den."

"I'm not going inside. I'm going to ring the doorbell and ask to speak to the Alpha."

"And if this Alpha wants to maul you?" Stiles waves his arms around, an aborted attempt to gesture to the little staring girl. He leans in close to hiss out a whisper. "Or wants the corn child to strangle you? With her tiny evil little hands." Jordan exhales through his nose and pushes Stiles back again.

"Go inside. No one is going to murder me in broad daylight."

"Tell that to Thistle." He hates the way his face goes soft and open at her name. He still feels raw inside from what happened. The life he gave her this afternoon feels too new, too fragile. If he could, he'd still be holding onto her. It's probably that look that stills Jordan.

"Fine. Stay here." Jordan turns. The little girl is still in her driveway. Now she's absentmindedly chewing on her dog toy. "Little girl?" He takes another step forward. He's just barely standing in the street now, practically on the curb still. "Excuse me, what's your name? I'm Deputy Parrish."

The little girl spits her toy onto the ground. "Malia." She tips her head like a dog. She must hear something they can't because in the next instant she's prancing back inside like she didn't just shatter Stiles' sense of safety. They wait for the door to close before heading inside.

Jordan is plenty bossy, forcing Stiles to go sit upstairs just in case. "Pack a bag just in case. Your dad is on his way with some deputies."

"Who?"

"Tara and Max. They should be here any minute." Jordan yanks Stiles' gym duffle from the closet and tosses it on the bed. Then he heads back downstairs to stand guard at the door. Stiles does pack a few things, and grumbles angrily under his breath the whole time. He doesn't know how to feel about this new development. On the one hand, his tormentor lives very close. She's obviously capable of a full shift if she can fit through the cat door. And she has zero remorse about killing. On the other hand, she's like seven. So unless she's acting on Alpha's orders or she's a psychopath in the making Stiles' fears are kind of unjust. Right?

It can't be more than ten minutes later when blue and red lights start flashing in his window. They pass by in a second and Stiles runs out of his room and down to the living room. Jordan is there, opening the front door. But he shuts it behind him. Stiles runs to open it but the knob won't budge, he must be holding it from the other side. "Parrish come on!" He smacked the door but Jordan didn't budge.

He considered going around to the backdoor but he didn't want to let his dad out of his sight. If he looked out the peep hole he could make out his dad and his two deputies standing in the pack's lawn. There was a werewolf for each of them, all in a line. He couldn't see Malia but his view was fish-eyed and Jordan's head was taking up some of the space.

Stiles waited with baited breath, ready for a fight to break out at any second. A twitch, a sneer, any sign that the Alpha was going to move and Stiles had to be ready. He didn't want to bring a human back. Especially not his father. He was sworn against it. But swearing on a hypothetical didn't mean much if he had to see his father's dead body. He has one hand on the door knob and one balled into a fist next to his head. They're just talking.

He can't hear what's being said but the wolves go tense. Stiles is about to vibrate out of his skin, but in the next second they relax. It's hard to tell with the view he has, but their body language is almost apologetic. Or at least ashamed. Then the taller woman was yelling and his dad was turning back to say something to Parrish. The knob jiggled in Stiles' hand so he jerked away.

When the door opens Stiles tries to casually act like he wasn't defying orders. The fact that he'd tried to turn the knob completely slips his mind. Jordan was kind hearted enough to let it slip for now. Probably a one off because of the genuine fear. "Stiles, they're coming over for a talk."

"A talk?" Stiles put his hands out in front of him. "Whoa, no. No. Seriously? We're just going to let the murderers walk into the house?"

Jordan rolls his eyes, opens his mouth, and looks to the ceiling. So sympathy points have been expended then. "Just sit down and be ready." He pulls the door shut again, leaving Stiles to snark and flutter about on his own.

The living room isn't really set up for a power play. Their couch and recliner face the television. They use to have a coffee table centered on the rug. Until he and Scott broke it pretending to be superheroes. Now they have an assortment of end tables. Usually their big talks and breakthroughs happen in the dining room. He doesn't want to go in there. His eyes will be drawn to the cat door. But he doesn't want to sit either.

Stiles wrings his fingers together and stands in front of the t.v. It isn't long before Jordan is coming back inside, his father closely behind. Behind them a tall tan woman with dark hair is leading the way for an even taller scruffy looking guy. Evil little Malia is between them. Scruffy guy was leading her in with his hands on her shoulders. She at least had the decency to look disgruntled.

The Sheriff sighs and grabs his belt. He doesn't bother telling Stiles to sit. This whole thing is just a mess. "Stiles, Malia and her Alpha would like a word with you."

The woman waves her hand in a dismissive gesture then grimmaces at Stiles. "Laura. Just...Laura is fine. I'm sorry about all of this." She looks back at Malia. She's still being held in place by the scruffy guy. Who by this point looks equal bits constipated and upset.

Stiles is standing to one side with Jordan and his dad on either side of him. Laura, Malia, and scruffy are opposite them. He keeps his eyes on Malia. As silly as it is, he's still unnverved. "She killed my cat. Six times." Beside him Jordan inched closer. Stiles feels a little comradery with Jordan. Though not a necromancer, he has a certain intimate understanding with life and death.

The Alpha, Laura, lets out a huff of breath and looks to the ceiling. Beside her scruffy has moved his hands from Malia's shoulders to holding her loosly across her collarbones, drawing her tiny body in closer. "She didn't mean any harm. And we weren't asking her to do this. I swear. I had no idea."

Stiles bristles. "She didn't mean to? She didn't mean to break into my house through the freaking cat door and strangle my cat? Thistle never hurt anybody!" His fists are clenched at his sides and he's tipping forward, trying to project his anger. His dad has to grab him by the shoulder to bring him down.

Then scruffy speaks up. "Malia is going to apologize. She'll be punished." Scruffy starts rubbing his thumb across her little neck in comfort. "Then we can talk as adults." Stiles wants to argue but his dad's steady presence keeps him quiet. Of course, why get angry at this kid if he can just bring her back? Stiles tries to fight off the hot sting of tears building. He hates being an angry crier.

Malia brings her hands up and covers scruffy's. Her little nails are digging into his skin but he doesn't react. "I'm sorry I killed your pet."

Stiles lets out a little puff. Barely a laugh, definitely sarcastic. That's it? He's been living in terror for over a month and that's the grand finale? He wants to say something. He wants to yell. But scruffy and Laura are staring at him like the most intimidating bouncers ever. An adult conversation. Right. He couldn't wait.

Surprisingly Laura leaves with Malia. He'd have thought his situation at least warranted the Alpha. Apparently they weren't very supportive of necromancers. Stiles threw himself onto the couch. He couldn't wait to hear the half-assed promises about not letting it happen again. To keep himself occupied he snatched up a throw pillow and started plucking at its seams. Around him the adults were moving around. Scruffy waits for his family to get inside before he comes back to the living room and his father and Jordan box him in on the couch.

There's a little bit of awkward shuffling while scruffy decides whether or not he wants to stand or sit off to the side. "Let's just get this over with okay?" Stiles is sick of waiting for this farce to be over. It doesn't even phase him when his dad smacks him for being rude.

Scruffy clenches his jaw. "My name is Derek Hale. Maybe you've heard of our pack?"

Stiles tips his head. The Hales were a big pack once. They lived on the edges of Beacon County back before the fire. Derek and his sisters must be all that's left. It was pretty big news for a while.

"My uncle died in that fire. But someone brought him back. Someone who wanted their very own werewolf attack dog. Malia is his daughter. Imagine being five years old and seeing your dead father terrorizing a town. A monster masquerading with a face you loved." Derek crossed his arms over his chest. "Malia was trying to help you. She doesn't understand that Thistle is harmless. We'll talk with her." Derek doesn't even wait for a reply. He turns heel and stalks out of the house like Stiles is the one who's been causing problems.

Which okay, now he can see where Malia is coming from. But well intentioned or not, Stiles still suffered. Thistle suffered. Stiles kicked his foot out and turned up the edge of the rug. "I'm still mad."

His dad sighed and rubbed his hand across Stiles' back. "I know. This wasn't right. But it wasn't malicious." He pauses for Stiles' scoff. "It wasn't. Even if it felt like it. Thistle should be okay now and that's what matters."

After that things are weird. Even if they seem to be returning to normal. For the first few weeks Stiles blocks off the cat door completely and makes Thistle stay inside. He makes no moves to speak to the Hale's even though his father does. He's smart enough to understand that they've had a bad experience with necromancers. And since he's had a bad experience with them it's probably for the best that they just skirt around one another. No arguments to be had if they don't interact right?

Stiles tried valiantly to avoid them until he left for college. It almost worked too. "Does she eat?" Stiles stops just short of his jeep. He knows it's Malia. He can't see her but she sounds close by. When he doesn't answer she comes crawling out from under his car. "Does she?"

"Uh...yeah. She can."

"I caught a squirrel this morning. She can eat it if she wants." Sure enough she reaches back under the car to pull out a squirrel carcas. Stiles cringes at the sight of it. He's okay with dead things but it's still unnerving to watch a little girl be proud of a fresh kill. "We can be friends?" She thrusts the squirrel out at him. It dangles from her tiny fist like the worst dog toy ever.

"Oh...uh. I don't know. Your Alpha--"

"Alpha says your still sad. I said sorry to you. But not to Thistle? This is a good sorry?" She shakes the squirrel around a little bit. By now the wounds have mostly healed. Once the raw feeling went away it was easier to rationalise. It helped that he looked up the necromancer who paraded Peter Hale around too. He learned to be grateful that Malia went after his cat instead of trying to strangle him in his sleep. And lately it seemed like his dad couldn't come home without singing the praises of the Hale's. How they were contributing to the community. How they'd fought to keep Malia. How they'd said no to rebuilding their pack even though they were entitled.

The way his dad talked it seemed like the Hale pack would be crashing in his spare room the second he moved away. Malia starts to frown. Just as her arm starts to lower Stiles takes the squirrel. "She'll love it. But she's more of a Meow Mix kind of lady okay. No more dead stuff."

Malia nods once with as much finality as her little frame can muster. "No more dead stuff." Stiles thinks he might have a new little shadow from now on.


End file.
